


I'll bring you to the sea.

by Wunjotheorc



Category: Shadowrun
Genre: Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-09-29 23:27:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20444327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wunjotheorc/pseuds/Wunjotheorc
Summary: Wynn, known under their street name Rune, is one of the fastest couriers in the shadows. Working for their aunt, an international smuggler, they get the chance to travel around the world. After some time in Hong Kong, they have to deliver Mr.Wu precious and mysterious cargo to Seattle. Of course everything goes wrong!This is mostly me giving a try at writing. I'm a GM for a Shadowrun campaign so if I can't play I'll just write about my ocs.





	1. Seattle

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time at writing. Also English isn’t my first language.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: I first wrote this at like 3 in the morning? So I restarted it the next day and added stuff.

Seattle, finally! It had been months since the tugboat had left Hong Kong, and as soon as Wynn set foot on the dock they could feel the land sickness kick in. But there was no time to whine, the rest of the crew needed help to moor the ship. As they were all working with the cords under the drizzle Wynn could hear the captain already shouting orders to move the precious cargo they had been transporting across the pacific.

“No questions” had said Mr Wu, with a suitcase full of credsticks on the table, but as soon as the cargo was on board, Wynn felt the magic emitting from the box, and a quick peek in astral perception showed that whatever it was, it was alive. Everyone on board was on edge because of that. Some even reported hearing noise coming from it at night. The captain? She didn’t give a drek.

“Can’t be worse than what we have back at home. And anyway we need that money”. Sure, the ship needed a good makeover or whatever, and smuggling magic components was their speciality. But magical creatures? With no mage on board to control it? The fact that there had been no incident during the trip was a good surprise. As they were tying their last rope Wynn saw how eager the crew was working. They all wanted this thing far away from them as quickly as possible. Once their work was done, Wynn took the time to look around the harbour. They were moored between two other tugs. Not too far were bigger ships, tankers for the most parts. All belonging to the largest corporations they could name. If they learned correctly, this was Tacoma. Wynn had months on the sea to memorise the maps of the big Seattle metropolitan area. In their line of work, you couldn't just rely on the grid to guide you.

The drizzle was getting heavier. Wynn whipped the rain and sweat from their forehead then passed their tongue on their tusks and lips, feeling the familiar taste of salt. They were still a bit nauseous, having the sensation of swaying even though they were on the good old earth. Turning back to look at their aunt's ship Wynn realised how much of work it needed. The dirt and rust running on its sides made it look like it was bleeding and you could barely see the name and home port anymore. And the sound of the engines! No wonder the mechanics were half deaf. But then, for a ship built in the 2000s, it was still impressive. As they were heading back to the ship bridge a crew member came to them. It was Tiny Bob. Never saw an orc smaller than him.

“Hey, Rune! The captain needs you and your seeing eyes”

“Hein? What for ?” He was anxiously swinging on his feet, which was never a good sign.

“It’s about the cargo. She wants you to check on it before you deliver it.” Wynn blinked a few times. Of course, it had to fall on them. Rune, the best courier, and the only one on this stinking ship who could see the thing inside that cargo. The simple idea of driving with that just next to them gave them the creeps. Bob gave them an encouraging tap on the shoulder before leaving, which was more awkward than anything since he was way shorter than them. With a sigh, Wynn tugged their beanie on their head and went back on the ship, where their footing was steadier than on land.


	2. The cargo.

The Yamaha Growler was already on deck when Wynn got on the boat. That motorbike was their pride and joy. Riding through town at night. Going full speed between cars. Those were the most exhilarating things in their life. The simple idea of going on the road after months on the sea brought a smile on their face. As they got closer they saw Fred and Camille working on it. They were under an improvised marquee to keep out of the rain. One was checking the engine while the second was making room in the hidden compartment.

“So I’m gonna drive with that thing right under my arse?” Not realising that Wynn was right behind them, both women cried out in fear, startled.

“Oh come on! Don’t creep on us like that!” said Camille, punching a laughing Wynn in the ribs, to no effects. “You prefer we put that drek in a backpack and on your shoulders?”

“Okay! Okay! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you!” While those punches weren’t heavy, they would leave bruises. Wynn was awkwardly trying to stop the dwarf without hurting her. But she seemed determined on trying to break something. With a pleading expression on their face, Wynn looked at a tired Fred for help.

“Stop it.” The deep voice of the ogress worked like magic, stoping the dwarf. Grudgingly, Camille went back to work. Fred continued “The boss wants you to check on the cargo, see if there’s anything unusual.”

“Apart from the fact it's _alive_ ?” Fred didn’t answer and showed them the bridge deck before going back to work on the compartment. The captain was smoking behind the windows, observing her crew. Without waiting, Wynn went up the stairs and took shelter inside the warm room. While the ship looked unkept on the outside, the interior of it was a sharp contrast with how clean it was. The common areas were kept in order and once a month the captain would inspect the cabins. The crew thought it was a little mania of her. Wynn knew that the real reason was that their aunt was terrified at the idea of having cockroaches on her ship. Tatie Katell could snap a man in two without flinching but god forbid cockroaches.

Upon seeing them the captain put out her cigar and went to the main table to sit. Wynn promptly got out of their raincoat and went next to her. Between maps and other nautical tools was a black squared wooden box. It was decorated in strange and intricate red patterns with no visible openings. Being next to it made Wynn uneasy. It was Mr Wu precious cargo.

“So… What is it doing right now?” While a mundane, the captain could feel the energy oozing from the box. Oh, she did have her share of adventures smuggling unstable reagents. But this? Only the need for money made her accept the offer. The mere idea of seeing that thing again made Wynn nervous. They didn’t like magic in general. But they had to. They closed their eyes and tried to relax, slowing their breathing. Wynn is what people would call an Aware. They don’t have enough magic in them to cast spells. And they have only enough to be able to see weird things. Such as spirits or, in this case, the astral silhouette of a magical but bizarre creature. As the world went black with colourful outlines they could see it through the wooden box. A big round-shaped creature with nine tendrils. Normally, it would look back at them, as if it could see outside of their confinement. But for now, it was motionless.

“I think… it’s sleeping right now?”

“Nothing else?” Their aunt was looking at them with an inquisitive look.

“No, nothing.” What the hell where they supposed to see anyway? But before being able to ask their question, the captain gave them new orders.

“Alright kid. You will leave at night with your bike. Your destination is the Redmond Center. It’s a mall with a luxury hotel attached to it. Not hard to miss. It’s near…”

“The Redmond Way, I know where it is.” The captain gave them a quizzical look. “I’ve seen it in the maps I had to learn”. If there was one thing to do to pass time in the middle of the ocean, it was to memorise every important place of the city. It was hard work, but always rewarding in the end. The captain gave them a pleased smile and took their chromed hand in hers.

“Be careful kid, alright? You’ll be in Yakuza territory.” There it was. The concern for their safety. She was their aunt after all. The only family member they had left.

“Don’t worry tatie, I’ll be careful.” And with a smile, they left.

Going down two decks on the narrow stairs, Wynn reached the common quarters. With a whole crew of 12, captain included, everyone had their own cabin. It was small, but the bed was dry. After being careful not to smash their head in the doorway they stripped down and took a look in the mirror. Using their commlink they reactivated their nanotattoos. Three black bands appeared on their face. One above each eyebrow and one on the chin. Then they checked if their chromed arms and spurs were in good condition. After that, they dressed in comfortable but protective clothes. Took their backpack and HK Urban SMG and went out.

The bike had already been unloaded. Wynn arrived as the captain was overseeing Fred sealing the smuggling compartment. As they were approaching, questions crept in the back of their head. Would they be able to drive after all this time? And with that thing under them? But shortly after sitting on their bike and putting on their helmet, all their worries were gone. When the engine rumbled under them a smile crept on their face. When they left the port at full speed Rune the courier was on their way to the Redmond Barrens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Local adult learns English grammar years after university. Also here is Rune on their bike.


	3. Redmond Center

The rain had finally stopped. As soon they had left the port Wynn slowed down. While speeding on a highway was fun, getting into trouble with the law wasn't. And their client paid them to bring the black box to their destination, not Lone Star on their doorstep. As they approached downtown the traffic got dense. To avoid losing time, they gave a look at their bike's interface, searching for an alternate route on the grid. Adding their knowledge of the town's roads to it, they quickly arrived in Redmond through Touristville. They had been warned about the state of the Redmond Barrens. But it's the kind of place where you have to go to understand how bad it is. Touristville seemed ok. If you didn't stop for too long on the same spot. Lot's of clubs, night vendors, and so much spam that Wynn had to deactivate their helmet's Augmented Reality system to continue without crashing into something. The passers-by were enjoying their time out here way to much to be residents. Most of them looked like rich kids looking for a thrill. Continuing further Wynn soon realized that the maps they had studied were starting to date. But the little they knew would be very useful as the grid was abruptly nonexistent. Apart from Touristville, the Barrens was a lawless zone. The metroplex government didn't give a drek aout it. As they were sure to cross no patrols, Wynn went above the speed limit, enjoying the performance of their motocross bike on the bad roads.

Maybe it was due to the vibrations, but suddenly the thing under Wynn started to move, shifting the bike's balance and making them wobble.

"Merde!"

In an attempt to avoid a deadly fall Wynn braked the rear wheel. It helped, but not much as they still went down. They fell on their side, knocking the wind out of their lungs. They rolled while their bike scraped the asphalt. Listening to the number one rule of a fallen biker, they tried to get out of the road as fast as possible. Getting up with their lungs on fire was awful but Wynn managed to go to what must have been the sidewalk many years ago. Taking the time to get some air back in, Wynn checked themselves. Nothing seemed broken but their clothes had clearly seen better days. The reinforced fabric had protected them as far as it could, but their skin on their legs was raw in some places. One of their shoulders had a burning sensation. Their chromed arms were still functioning but might need a checkup. They didn't dare take off their helmet before seeing a doctor. Luckily enough, their backpack seemed untouched. Looking around, they realised they were in a deserted place. Good. No one to see their lame fall. A burst of nervous but happy laughter came out of them, immediately cut by the pain. And the sight of their bike._ Fuck, the box. _

Limping, they swore that if this 10 000¥ custom bike did not protect that fragging Mr Wu's box they would punch the mechanic who sold it, even if it was an old family friend. With difficulty, they managed to get the bike up. Nearly tearing the compartment latch off, they let a relieved sigh upon seeing that the box was intact. Seeing how delicate it was, Fred had added some padding in the stash, saving them all tonight.

"Salté! You're lucky I have to deliver you because I swear on my dear mother I would throw you in the sea otherwise!" While trying to put the lid back on, Wynn's hand brushed the box. A cold sensation went through their metallic fingers. The impossible feeling sent chills up their spine but what freaked them out was the voice. A tinny voice pleading for help. As if coming right from the box.

Okay, that was enough. Wynn sealed the compartment and with a quick look, saw that the bike wasn't beyond repair. Determined to get rid of the box, they sat on their bike unflinchingly, whistling with joy when the engine started with no problem. Some times later, and at a reasonable speed, they arrived in front of the Redmond Center.

It was a two-story mall around a ten-story hotel. The buildings clearly had seen better days, selling product and services that the nowadays population couldn't afford. The security wasn't discreet and Wynn's could easily see them. Two men in outrageously coloured Hawaiian shirts were seated on the outside of a street food vendor right next to the mall. One of them very interested in the menu. Another guy was smoking on the second floor's balcony, watching the small crowd going in and out of the mall. Others could be seen here and there, ready to intervene if needed.

Wynn parked in a deserted alley on the other side of the road. Getting their comlink out, they noticed the cracked screen. With a groan, they called the ship.

"Tatie, j'y suis." After some time the captain answered.

"In English kid. The crew is listening." Her tone was scolding.

"Yeah sorry. I said I'm in front of the centre. Ther's a hotel and a mall. The security is heavy but doesn't look like they're waiting for something. What do I do?" At the same time, the guard inspecting the menu looked in their direction. Reflexively, Wynn made themselves smaller. Yakuzas weren't known for their kindness towards metahumans.

"They are waiting for you. Just take the box and go see one of the guards. Mr Wu said they'll know what to do." Well, that was vague. The whole job was. Their aunt better pays them good on this one because they were doing the hardest part. Wynn opened the smuggling compartment and slowly put one of their hands on the box. No voice. Good. After getting it out on the floor Wynn activated the anti-theft security on their bike, whishing for it to still be there when they would come back. They also took the time to hide their SMG in a hidden pocket of their backpack. As soon as they came out of the alley they could see the guard from earlier walking in their direction, one of their colleague just behind. _ Oh shit. _ Wynn walked toward them, making sure they could see the box. They stared at each other in awkward silence. _ Hello, delivery orc! Is this the Yakuza who asked for a box with a talking magic thingy? _The one that had seen them was obviously a new guy. Damn! His face still had baby fat. And he was looking so anxious. Wynn leaned a bit to see the guy behind who was clearly an elder. That vexed the kid.

"Hey, drek head! You're that courier from Hong Kong ?"

"No, I'm the pizza guy." He blinked a few time, not expecting that. Then looked a the box in Wynn's hands.

"That... doesn't look like a pizza." The older man rolled his eyes so hard Wynn though they would fly away. Taking things into hands, he shoved his subordinate aside and came right in front of Wynn.

"Stop playing around and take your helmet off. I don't like to speak with someone who hides their face." With one hand, Wynn raised their visor, showing only their eyes, hoping that was enough. They really wanted to see a doctor first, and a little voice in their head was telling them that that guy enjoyed beating orcs. Snarling, the man turned around, motioning them to follow. The kid said something in what Wynn supposed was Japanese but they couldn't understand. Realising they couldn't get it, the kid smirked. _ Moron. _ Sometimes they really wished they could have one of those auto translating chips. But without adding metal to their already mutilated body. The three of them went through the mall's main alley, passing by shops and restaurants. The smell of food made Wynn hungry. They entered the hotel. It must have been one of those luxury places in the beginning. With the crystal chandelier and all that fancy stuff. Now it was kept at the minimum. They arrived in front of the reception desk where a small woman was working. She barely gave a glance at Wynn. The box, on the other hand, seemed to intrigue her. Again, they all spoke in a tongue that Wynn couldn't understand. Giving a look around, they quickly understood that this whole hotel was a cover for selling vices. People going up in the elevators by two or more. But coming out alone. A little voice told them that all the prostitutes here were bound by debt. _ Wait, how could they know that? _

"Let's go" the two yakuza led them behind the reception through a staff-only door. At the other end of the room was an elevator. In front where two other guards. A security point. Without asking they started to search them.

"Do you have any firearms?"

"No." Wynn felt the warmth of adrenaline crawl in their body. If that hidden pocket didn't do its job properly they were in big trouble.

"And your chrome? Is it weaponized?" On that one, they couldn't lie.

"Yes, but I can deactivate it if you want." Playing along was always good in that kind of situation. Putting the box aside on a table, Wynn raised their sleeves and opened a tiny compartment on their lower left arm, accessing the manual setting board. Making sure the guards could see, they deactivated the spurs. What the men couldn't know was that with a specific movement of the shoulders, they could be reactivated. Satisfied, the guards let them take the box back and lead them to the elevator.

"Can I ask where we are going ?" With an audible ding, the elevator opened. Wynn stepped inside, followed closely by the to men from outside. Facing their backs, Wynn saw the older man press the button for the second basement.

"We are bringing you to our chef. He wants to see the package by himself before letting you go. It's not complicated to see you had an accident since you look like shit. I hope for you that you didn't break anything in that box." Wynn hoped that too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did I get myself into? Writing a fic. I'ts been three days now. Let me sleep brain!


	4. The hotel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do you action scene?

As they went down Wynn felt their comlink vibrate. They lowered their visor a bit to look at the mail on the AR screen. It was their aunt, asking if everything was ok. With one hand in their pocket, they gave their location. The nice thing with having a comlink with a keyboard was to be able to write without looking. Most of the time it was readable. As the elevator came to a stop, they swiftly got their hand out of their pocket, hoping the two yakuza didn't see anything. They were led through underground tunnels. It seemed like a bunker had been constructed under the whole complex. As they turned left and right through corridors Wynn made sure to make a mental map of the place. It was too easy to get lost in labyrinths like that. Another turn and they arrived at a dead-end with an only wooden black door. Decorated in red patterns. Like the box. As the older man knocked on the door the box trembled in Wynn's hands. A cold unpleasant sensation creps through their metallic arms, turning bright hot when it met the flesh. They made a big effort to not cry out loud and throw the thing away. But they must have swayed a bit as the younger man raised an eyebrow at them. The door opened and the men invited Wynn to go in first, following just behind.

The room's concrete walls were hidden behind black shelves, going up to the white ceiling and covered in books and trinkets. In the middle of the room was a simple desk, also black, put on a circular red carpet. Touch of red could also be seen here and there on the shelves. If you put aside the bodyguards and the concerned man sitting behind that desk, the whole thing looked like some ad for a Swedish furniture-selling corporation. Trendy but with no personality. The man sitting behind the desk was in his early forties with striking yellow bleached hair. He reminded Wynn of a duckling. His bodyguards were right behind him. Without a word, he gestured to bring the box. With great efforts to not drop it as it was raging, Wynn managed to put it on the table. But the cold and burning sensation stayed in their arms. As if the accident from earlier wasn't enough, now even their chrome was hurting. With another silent gesture from the boss, an elegant man approached the desk. Wynn couldn't help but notice the sutures on his ears. _An elf made human. _Wynn felt sick looking at that. With a twist of the hand and unintelligible gibberish from him, the box levitated. Then separated itself in tiny pieces, following the red patterns, giving access to what was inside. It was a hairless critter, hissing and struggling to get a hold on something. Someone who could only be called a butcher had crudely grafted extra tails to it, leaving painful stitches on the wretched creature. Wynn realised it was a fox. Someone had tried to artificially create a nine-tailed fox. The tendrils they had seen with astral perception were in fact tails. Since their accident when they were a kid, their astral perception wasn't as good as before, but to not realise it was an awakened fox curled up on itself stung. It then looked at them straight in the eyes, and Wynn could hear that pleading voice again.

They looked away.

It made the fox even more enraged.

"Tell our friend the box arrived intact." The mage elf bowed. With a shake of the hand, he made the poor critter go still, before reassembling it back in the box and leaving with it. The hot and cold sensation stopped, leaving a horrible itching feeling behind. The boss then turned his gaze on Wynn. "It spoke to you." Not knowing what to answer they stayed quiet. "Are you a mage?"

Wynn shook their head but seeing the man squinting at them in suspicion they quickly added: "I'm an Aware". That seemed to please him.

"Take off your helmet." _ Well shit. _ No way to avoid it this time. With luck, they might be tolerant. Maybe they were part of that New Way thing since they had an elf mage. Carefully, Wynn lifted their helmet, feeling the sting of dried blook being pulled off their skin. Uncovering their face, they instantly felt the mood on the room change. Disgust and hatred could be seen on some of the guards but the boss was... disappointed. "Of course, you're an orc. Only wretched people like you become unhonorable shadowruner." _ I am not a shadowruner. _ That's what they wanted to say. They didn't get paid to kill. But even though they only did courier work it still _was _shadowrunning. Saying they weren't would have been hypocritical. "What a shame." He added. Wynn grinned their teeth in anger. If they were human, would that man try to recruit them? As usual, trogs were undesired. With a nod, he gave his new order.

Wynn received a kick from the kid inside their right leg, making them fall on both knees. With no time to react, he took them under the arms, lifting them. His elder then started to punch Wynn in the ribs.

"Enough!" The man stopped. Wynn spat blood on the floor. "Know, orc, that I am not ungrateful. You did bring me my package." Raising their head, Wynn could see him smirking. _Frag, arsehole! _"But I cannot allow you to leave without understanding who your master is". Why did human supremacists always have to act like that? "Get it out of my office" On that, the elder took Wynn's helmet and bashed their head with it, nearly knocking them out. Then with the help of the kid, they dragged Wynn through the corridors. They arrived in front of the same elevator as before.

"Don't worry trog, we'll take our time" The kid laughed at that.

Wynn had to think quick if they didn't want to be beaten to a pulp. Once in the elevator, as the door closed, Wynn reactivated their spurs.

Drawing the little strength they had left, they rose up. Shoved the kid to the left, slamming their elbow on his chest, the blade coming out and piercing through. A silent scream came out of his mouth.

The other guy was reaching for his gun. With no time to rest, Wynn grabbed his head with their left hand before he could aim at anything. The double-ended spur slid across the arm, coming out through their wrist.

His head pierced, the man went limp.

Wynn let his corpse fall to the floor and turned they gaze to the elevator panel. Their whole body ached and breathing was tedious. They were in no shape to fight their way through the hotel and mall. As they were thinking, they remarked the wheezing sound coming from their left. With a glance, they saw that the kid was still alive, clutching his chest, a plea in his eyes. _Way too young. _ By the sound of it, a lung was pierced. Soon, he would be choking on his blood. Getting a medikit out of their bag, they sorely kneeled near him.

"How can I get out without being seen ?" they rummaged through the kit, waiting for an answer, hoping no one would use the elevator right now.

"Parking... First basement... Badge... Pockets" Wynn nodded, thanking him. He smiled, hopeful. With a twist of the wrist, the spur got out, slashing his throat. As he gurgled Wynn took some painkillers, putting away the kit. Getting up, they pushed the first basement button and searched through the men pockets. A badge, two credstick and the elevator opened directly to the mall's underground car park. They picked up their helmet on the floor and walked to the exit door. Opening it with the stolen badge, they prayed nobody would notice them. Once outside, they put on their helmet and checked the craked interface to see how far they were from their bike. Wynn's heart skipped a beat. It wasn't where they had left it. And it was moving. But it was slow and less than 10 minutes away from them. They could still get it back. Beaten and exhausted, they started to run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's more limping than running but Wynn needs their bike. Otherwise, Redmond is over 60 km from Tacoma. Thank's google map! Also a bonus: a quick sketch I did of Wynn chrome. Both arms are augmented like this. Only the lower arms though. The blade goes back and forth.  



	5. The bike

Getting that bike back might have been the easiest thing of the night. At some point, it had stopped moving, letting Wynn close the distance. Turning into a noisy alley they saw a small group of orcs hanging around it. They were having a little party with cheap beer and old school punk music. One of them, an Orc with a blond mohawk, was sitting on the bike as if it had always been his. Wynn straightened. They knew they looked like shit. But a good posture and the right attitude could scare off the nastiest of trogs. As they approached, the group went silent. Seeing a faceless biker taller than 6 feet with scratches and blood on them was kinda unsettling. And they clearly weren't here to have a nice chit-chat. The music became too much and someone stopped it. The orcs were trying to look tough but Wynn saw how nervous they were. Mohawk guy, meanwhile, looked confident with a cocky grin.

"Get the hell off my bike." Wynn was doing all their possible to not immediately jump on that guy.

"The fuck did that bitch says?" That might have been an insult twenty years ago, but Wynn only scoffed at it. Realizing how lame his choice of words was, Mohawk hastily added: "That bike ain't yours anymore, so frag off!" They both stared at each other for a few seconds. Until he looked slightly above Wynn's shoulder. Without waiting, they turned around and blocked the incoming fist in their hand. That one was a troll as big as them. Good thing they had taken those pain killers! That close Wynn saw that the troll was still a kid. Clenching the fist with all their mechanical force, the courier made her cry out and fall on her knees. The surprised look she gave them showed that she wasn't used to be so simply brought down. Not letting go, Wynn leaned above her.

"What are you? 18?" Tears began to flow from the girl's eyes.

"No, I'm 12. Please don't kill me! I'm sorry!" Shocked, Wynn let go of her. Sometimes they forgot how fast them orcs and trolls could grow. You could hardly be in your teen years and already be taller than the average human. Holding her bloodied hand, the girl stood up and ran to her friends who immediately tried to comfort her. Wynn felt a bit shitty for crushing that kid's hand. But just a bit. _ Nobody fucks with Rune without paying the price. _

They were all dumbfounded, not used to find someone meaner than them on the streets. Wynn took off their damaged helmet and closed the distance between them. Mohawk didn't wait to get down, all smile lost. Wynn saw he had hooves at the end of his legs. What the hell was he?

"How did you get past the anti-theft system?" Up close, they were all a bunch of street teenagers, and none of them looked like a decker. They were all watching their feet, not wanting to speak first.

"ANSWER ME!" Wynn's voice boomed in the alley. Some kids yelled while others ran away. An orc girl in her emo phase pushed Mohawk in the back, making him lose balance. As he fell on the floor, the rest of his team fled, abandoning him. Wynn was in no shape to run after them. They gazed at Mohawk and nudged him a bit with their boot. He didn't move, face to the ground. Annoyed, they got around him and knelt in pain to check their bike. Someone had forced the dashboard to access the starter. But whoever did that had done a drek job. Some cables had been yanked at random here and there. Panicking, Wynn tried to start the engine but nothing happened.

"Little shits!". As they got up, Mohawk curled on himself, ready to get a beating. Wynn grabbed him by his vest and lift him up, his hooves not touching the floor. "What the hell did you do to my bike?" This night was the worst. Wynn only wanted to get back to their cabin and sleep for a month. The boy was struggling in their grip.

"It wasn't me!" At that, Wynn got their spur out of their wrist. Seeing the blade, he went still, eyes wide open. "I mean it's Mark who did it! That guy doesn't know drek about electronics and nearly ruined it. So I had to jack in to get it to work. It still works! I can restore it for you! Please just put your chrome away, please!". Wynn puts him back on the floor, but didn't let go of him.

"You a decker?" At that he slowly raised his hand, eyes still on the blade, to lift his hair. There was a datajack visible on his temple. "I need it moving. And fast. Try to run and I'll gut you." They let go of him. He didn't run. Smart. As he plunged into the bike, Wynn's commlink ringed. It was their aunt Katell.

"_ Where are you? _" Her voice was cold and distant. The voice she always had before throwing someone off her boat.

"My bike is out. I'm getting it fixed as we speak. What's going on?" Wynn checked on Mohawk. He was completely still, his eyes looking at something only visible in his brain.

"_ We got paid. But Mr Wu just called, saying my own courier had killed two Yakuza. Have you gone mad? _ " Wynn tried to answer, but Katell went ahead " _ They don't know my location, yet, but you better be here quick because in two hours were leaving. With or without you. _" And on that, she hanged. Well, fuck. Two hours? They needed at least one to get back to Tacoma. Trying to get his attention, Wynn punched the guy in the shoulder. He didn't react. Having no other choice they waited, this kid being their only hope to get back home to safety. After a few minutes that felt like hours, he finally emerged. The bike's engine roared.

"Here, done!" He didn't unplug himself from the bike, making Wynn raise an eyebrow. "I... Well, see, Mark, well, some pieces don't work well and... Wait... Wait! Don't hit me! I fixed it! But I have to stay plugged in to keep it connected!" Wynn wanted to scream.

"Get on the bike." Now he was the one raising his eyebrows.

"What?"

"I said get your skinny arse on the bike. Now!" Not wanting to get punched by someone visibly struggling to not shred him on the spot, he complied. As he sat in the passenger seat, Wynn put back their helmet and gave Mohawk a check to see if he wasn't hiding anything dangerous. Getting shived in the kidney was the last thing they needed. Satisfied they leaned toward him until the visor of their helmet was nearly touching him. A bit of mist was forming on it where his nose was. With a callous voice, they warned: "We're gonna head to Tacoma's port. Once there we will part ways. Do anything suspicious and I will gut you." He nodded. With that Wynn got on the bike and planed the fastest way on their visor's map.

"You know if you gut me while you drive the bike will fall. And you'll be fragged." The boy had to have the last word, didn't he?

"We both will. But I at least have a helmet." With that Wynn accelerated, getting back to the main roads. 

The ride to Tacoma went smoothly. No one fell off the bike and traffic was sparse. Arriving at the port, Wynn saw their aunt's boat from afar. The 260 feet long salvage tug was hard to miss. Approaching, they saw the captain waiting near the catwalk, escorted by four of her men, all heavily armed. Stopping the bike, Wynn quickly got down, pulling out the decker's datajack on the way.

"Hey, don't do that!". Disoriented by the sudden disconnection, Mohawk fell off the bike with a loud thud. Not paying attention to him Wynn walked toward their aunt, already preparing an excuse in their mind. The delivery was made and the captain was paid. But now they had the Yakuza on their backs and the whole ship crew was in danger. The captain steel gazes met them and Wynn felt fear and shame burn through their chest.

"Tatie, I..." A rifle's cross bashed their temple. Everything went dark.


	6. The Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Head trauma is worse than a hangover. My longest chapter ever.

At 25, Wynn still didn't know what a hangover felt like. But the splitting headache they were having right now might be close to it. The sound of a tug boat's engines at full power did not help. With an effort to open their eyes, the orc discerned that they were in a dark room. The roughness of the sheets and a slight sensation of humidity made them understand that they were in a cabin. By reflex, they reached to their left, and cried out, abruptly aware of the pain across their whole body. Still, they insisted, laying on their side, until their hand found a squishy object on the mattress. Pulling it back to them, Wynn felt the o so familiar softness of an old plush toy. Curling around it with difficulty, they perceived a faint fragrance lingering on it. 

It was their mother's. 

Memories of brighter days flooded Wynn's mind. The taste of salted butter and sugar on real crepes at breakfast. Their cousin's high pitched laugh resonating on their shared bedroom's ceiling. The smell of incense lit by papa on the family's altar. Mama's warm embrace... Suddenly, it was too much to bear. The pain, the fear, and now sorrow. Wynn fell back to sleep, crying for people long gone. 

The orc woke up with a start. The rising sun's bright light was coming through the porthole, slowly heating their skin. Startled by the feeling, they slammed their head on the cabin's low ceiling, swearing in pain. At this rate, they would be the dumbest trog on earth. Wynn's sleep had been shit, full of nightmarish foxes and memories better forgotten. They must have squirmed a lot because the sheets were tangled around them, making it a battle to get out of bed. Which got dangerous when their bladder made itself known. The accident avoided, Wynn felt how dry their mouth was. Taking the goblet in their sink, they filed it with tap water. It tasted awful. But the captain had assured it was safe. Remembering their aunt, Wynn looked at themselves in the mirror. A black eye on the left, a swollen jaw and broken tusk on the right. Luckily their lovely nose was intact. Wynn always feared to get it crooked. Peeling off their sweat-soaked clothes, they admired last night work on their body. Bruises, scratches, wounds, everything was here. Wynn felt like utter shit.

Reaching the cabinet under the sink, they took the shower pipe out and plugged it on the tap. The cold water soon ran across the orc's skin. Not long after came warm water, to Wynn biggest surprise. They would always wake up too late for that. Not taking too long, as clear water was scarce on the sea, the orc hurriedly stopped the shower. That quick wash would have to do. Putting everything back to place, Wynn then proceeded to get dry and clothed as the temperature was low. The heat in the ship came mainly from the motors and metahuman activity. Only when layers and layers of fabric weren't enough did the captain put on the heaters. And even then it was only at night when the batteries were fully charged by the solar panels. Some crew members would usually sleep by two. To keep the warmth they said. Wynn knew better. 

After emptying half of their med-kit, the orc then proceeded to get a coat for outside. Right now, Wynn needed reassurance. Taking a jacket bag from the wardrobe, they carefully took out the vest inside. It was a white bomber jacket, the inside green, with "Security" and "Dassault " written in black on it. It belonged to Wynn's mother. From when she worked in a megacorp. After making sure it wasn't damaged, the orc put it on. Closing the zipper, then buried their nose in the collar, smelling the familiar perfume again. Tears began to pool in their eyes. After allowing only one tear to fall, Wynn went out.

The ship's corridors were silent as most of the crew was still asleep. Crossing the kitchen, the smell of spices woke the orc's stomach. Stepping back to peek through the doorway, Wynn saw Maurice coming out of the storage room, holding a large crate of potatoes. The old man was the current ship's cook. I one year, he had shown all the possible use of soypast mixed with spices and aromatic herbs. Spaghetti, boeuf bourguignon, flammekueche. You name it. He would make it. But right now, he was getting the real food out on the table. While checking the potatoes, his ludicrous moustache was wiggling left and right, a sign of high concentration. The vegetables were being separated into two groups. One in front of him, the other in front of another guy sitting at the table. Wynn hadn't noticed him. As soon as he was done, Maurice went back in the storage room with the crate, leaving the other man to peel the potatoes. That one was wearing a grey sweatshirt, his face half-hidden by its hood. Wynn did not know him. Mabe a new crew member from Seattle?

A sound came from the left side of the kitchen and Wynn saw that it was the soykaf machine going on. A hot cup would give them courage before seeing their aunt. As they went toward it, a loud ruckus came from the table. The man had sat up, his chair falling on the floor. Wynn saw he had hooves. They lifted their eyes slowly and reached his face. He was young, and blond strands of hair exceed his hood. It was Mohawk.

"Ya fucking bitch!" He leapt toward Wynn, the peeling knife in hand. But the orc courier is was too tired and in pain to fight. Grabbing the blade, they quickly crushed it with their chromed hand. A step on the left with a push finished the job and Mohawk fell face to the floor. Wynn hoped he didn't get too hurt. The boy sat up, stunned, holding a bloodied nose. Wynn went back to the machine and poured two cups of soykaf.

"Here, you'll need it." As they handed the cup to him, the boy gave them a lost look. He had intense blue eyes. He took it in an automatic gesture. Wynn then went to fetch some slap patches in the kitchen's med-kit. Coming back with one, they saw that the boy hadn't moved and was still holding the cup. They kneeled next to him and gently pushed his hand off his nose. He was apathetic. After checking that it wasn't broke, Wynn put the patch across the nose bridge and got up, pulling him at the same time.

"What's going on?" He had spoken with such a low voice that Wynn did not get it at first. With a sigh they left the kitchen, gesturing him to follow. 

They both went out, the cold salted air assaulting them. Wynn sat on the stairs leading to the bridge deck, facing the east. It was their favourite spot. The boy sat next to them, and they both enjoyed in silence the hot beverage. The sun was still low, giving the clear sky a rosy touch and warming their faces. Wynn glanced at the boy. He was trembling a bit, his clothes not adapted to travelling on the sea. He needed something to block the wind and keep warmth in. Auntie Katell could have spared him a raincoat.

"Tell me." As if they had opened a valve, a flow of words came out of the boy's mouth. He told about how he had been dragged on the ship, punched to stay quiet, forced to work on the bike next to an angry dwarf woman late in the night, left to sleep in a stinky hammock he found in the boat's hold, nearly froze to death and then, woke up early by a guy with a funny moustache who didn't speak English to prepare breakfast! His rant over he looked at Wynn, who was struggling not to smile. Noticing it, he slapped their arm, only hurting himself on the chrome.

"You've been shanghaied kid." 

"The bloody hell, does that mean?" Wynn thought of a way to explain without him freaking out too much.

"See this as... spontaneous hiring. Lunch is free, and you'll get a salary for your work on the ship." He stayed quiet for a time, fixing where Seattle should be on the horizon.

"Am I allowed to leave?" Wynn told him that yes, he could. Once they would reach wherever the captain was sailing to. They both went quiet after that, finishing their soykaf.

"Il est ou l'autre branleur!?" That was Maurice, his angry voice coming from the kitchen below. Mohawk looked at Wynn for a translation.

"It's the cook, he's looking for you."

"Bollocks. I didn't get what the old man said, but it wasn't that nice" The orc smiled. The more the boy spoke, the more it was clear he wasn't native from Seattle.

"He called you a wanker." He made a face at that. Accepting his fate, Mohawk got up and took both of their cups, ready to head down the stairs. 

"Wait! What's your name?" He didn't answer right away, surely considering if he should give his real name to them.

"Ma name is... Callum. See you later." With that, he left. After a while, Wynn got up too. Climbing the remaining stairs, they entered the bridge deck. 

The captain was in front of the map table. She was planing their travel with Tinny Bob. Another one from the night shift was looking at the sonar and GPS. Upon hearing them, the captain looked at Wynn and went white for a second. She then approached them, letting Bob take care of the maps.

"I thought I saw a ghost for a moment." Then she examined Wynn's jacket, passing a hand on the name tag sewed on the chest pocket. _Soazig. _"You look so much like your mother." Her voice broke a bit.

Wynn was sceptical. They did have their mom's green eyes, but that was all. The rest came from dad. Maybe that was enough for their aunt. The captain admired the jacket a bit more, then hastily changed the subject. The cold captain from yesterday was back. She declared that they were sailing to Australia. Once there, Wynn would take a plane to France as they had a new delivery to make. Of course, this was all bullshit.

"And what's the real reason ?"

"You're fired."

Oh. Well, that stung. But with last night shitstorm, it was inevitable. Captain Katell couldn't keep Wynn with them if they wanted to be free from the yakuza. She had made sure Mr Wu couldn't track the ship, but you never knew what could happen. The money they had made would help stay low for a while, but Wynn couldn't work with her anymore. What they had done to the two men could ruin their aunt's reputation as a smuggler. She continued explaining what was next. Wynn was supposed to deliver a message to a fixer in Bordeaux. That same fixer would be their new employer.

"What about the boy? Why did you take him in?"

"He saw us. Didn't want to leave any witnesses." Now Katell was glaring at them. It was time to move. While going down the stairs, Wynn was pensive. The captain ordinarily dealt with dangerous people by putting a bullet between their eyes. Or throwing them to the sharks. Sometimes both. If Wynn weren't the captain's "dearest niece" they would have gone overboard in the night. A chill crept when they remembered what happened to the last cook. 

Going through the common areas, Wynn crossed some still tired crew members. Breakfast was served, but the orc wasn't hungry. They went to the holds. Stepping in, they interrupted the two mechanics getting it on. Unfazed, they went to the end of the storeroom where their bike was parked. Under the dirty yellow light, Wynn could see why Camille had forced Callum to work so late. The ship didn't have any replacement pieces, so the bumps and scratch were still visible. But the electronic had been completely repaired. Looking around they saw a disgusting hammock bearly held between two enormous crates. Wynn suddenly felt terrible for Callum. Yeah ok, that dickhead had stolen their bike, but they got it back. And the fact then the captain had forcibly recruited him while already having a full crew instead of just killing him was fishy. 

Wynn promised to the embarrassed mechanics to tell nothing and left for the kitchens. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic will be over with the next chapter to come. I don't feel able to make a fifty-something-chapters fic even if it's needed. So I decided to cut things in small stories. It lets me enjoy writing more. Wynn will still be the main character, most of the time, but I have other campaign NPC that I want to show you. I hope you enjoy it.


	7. New Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter.

Not having anything to do, Wynn thought about spending time with Callum. Their only skills were to drive or punch things, not that useful on the ship right now. Speaking with the new boy could help pass the time during the trip. Entering the kitchen, they took a knife and sat a the table, joining the two men peeling the potatoes. The cook seemed surprised but said nothing. Everyone here knew Wynn hated cooking. Oh, they were good at it mind you. But for them, it wasn't worth all the effort. The cooking then the cleaning, two to three times a day. Wynn was already exhausted thinking about it. But if that helped pass the time, they would do it. As the day went on, Maurice was in an excellent mood for once, having two young clerks to help him around. Wynn would translate his instruction for the decker. The cook made real food for the day. French fries that Callum insisted on calling chips and chicken with a carrot-based sauce. For dinner and supper, the boat crew had been in a pleasant mood. But Wynn prefered to stay in the kitchen to eat, not wanting to ruin the moment. Typically, the ship would remain at the docks for at least a week, giving enough time for everyone to rest. But the fragged delivery had forced the captain to leave after only five hours. A lot of people had been unhappy about that, hence the great feast.

"So you're gonna spend all your time here to amend?" Wynn jolted, not expecting to see their aunt here. The woman had brought her meal and sat on Wynn's bench. It was rare for them to be just together on the ship. They used it to speak as a family, evoking fond memories and letting out their feelings. Once done with their meal, Wynn pushed their plate and turned towards Katell. They wanted to know what was going on with the boy.

"Why didn't you just kill him?" The woman put her cutlery down and gleamed at them coldly, full of menace. Wynn didn't flinch, to her surprise. 

"I..." She was searching for her words. "I know I can be a ruthless bitch. But I can't kill kids." Wynn couldn't believe their ears. That woman was capable of the worst to get what she wanted, but couldn't harm a child? Guess there was still a bit of compassion for the world in this old heart. In the end, there was no funny business about Callum. 

The crew finished, Maurice went back in his kitchen, followed by Callum. The captains left, thanking the cook for the wonderful meal on the way. The cook assigned Callum and Wynn with cleaning the dishes. Being quickly bored, Wynn had playfully cast drops of soapy water on the boy. 

He retaliated by showering them with the spray tap. 

The only thing that stopped them from drenching the kitchen had been Maurice. Red as a tomato, he screamed obscenities and menaced them with a butcher knife. They both left, running away from his wrath. They took refuge in Wynn's cramped cabin. They stared at each other, chuckling until Wynn offered a beer. Callum looked around confused, certainly searching for a fridge. But there was none. In a boat, space is scarce, so you have to think smart. The whole bed frame was an inbuilt trunk with a thin but firm mattress placed on it. Pushing the lid up, Wynn revelled their stache of beer and canned food. Callum let out an impressed whistle. Taking two bottles and one can of biscuits, they put the bed back in place. Instaling themselves in the comfiest way as possible on the mattress, Wynn and Callum were ready for a cosy evening. And they spoke for hours. 

It surprised Wynn to learn that he was actually 22 years old, as he looked so young. They warned him to not say it to the captain, just in case. Callum was from England. His parents had immigrated to the Emerald City hoping for better opportunities. Like a lot of stories with this beginning, it went wrong. The short version was that he was presumed dead and wanted it to stay that way. He explained that satyrs were orc variants. Another proof of how messy the metahumanity was. He showed where his horns were supposed to be. He filled them, not wanting to bring too much attention to him. His primary way to survive had been his talents with the matrix. And hanging out with a bunch of punks who didn't hesitate to abandon him in the end. Callum had dreamt of leaving the Seattle streets, but he didn't imagine it going like this. 

"At least, for now, I won't have to look out for food. Might even go back to England one day, who knows." Then it was his turn to ask questions. Wynn explained as best as they could how the ship worked. The security measures and what to do in case of emergencies. They talked about the other crew members he had met at lunch. Then he wanted to know more about their cyberwar. Wynn showed him their augmented arms and let him examine them, but refused to explain why they had them. At some point in the night, they heard someone hitting on the right wall. It was Camille asking them to shut up. The cabin's walls weren't that soundproof. To piss off the dwarf women a bit more, Wynn kicked the shared wall with their foot.

"That's for all the time I had to hear your moans!" Both of them heard a faint 'frag off!' through the wall and smiled. 

"Well, guess it's time for me to leave." As he got up, Wynn suggested that if needed, Callum could sleep in their cabin to avoid freezing to death. He looked uncomfortable.

"I'm not gonna jump on you, pinky swear." He scoffed, but took their pinky with his own, doing the silly ritual.

In more or less a month, the tug boat arrived in Australia, halting at Honolulu and the Fidji to restock on the way. It had left a cold and rainy Seattle for the blazing Australian sun. By the time they arrived in Cairns, most of the crew would work outside on the bridge, the inside of the ship slowly becoming a damp furnace. The trip had been relatively calm, except when a mana storm nearly hit them while approaching the shore. Wynn had felt bad all morning, puking their guts in a bucket. Knowing that their relative was sensible to high concentrations of mana, the captain changed the course of the ship just in case. It saved their lives. She wasn't crazy enough to deal with sand storms filled with insane magical lighting. 

Once authorised to enter, the ship moored in the marina. Wynn worked with the mooring ropes, keeping an eye on Callum who tried to help. That guy wasn't made for the sea. Taking care of fishing nets, engines or anything else vital to the boat was impossible for him without a disaster. Even the always pestering Camille went silent because of him. In fear of her lover having a stroke, Fred had banned him from working with them. 

The ship secured, Wynn gesture to Callum to follow them to their cabin. Once inside, Wynn explained to him their trip to France. Regarding his inability to contribute to the ship, they asked him if he wanted to come with them. And he accepted, knowing his place wasn't on the sea anyway. Wynn took out a travel bag from the wardrobe, and they both started to fill it with their few possessions. Callum had ended on the ship with only the things he had on him. And they were his only belongings. For Wynn, the most important was their mother's jacket and a plush toy. Apart from some spare clothes, a toothbrush, credsticks and a dismantled Onotari SMG with its papers, the rest could stay behind.

"Well, seems like we won't pay any luggage fees." Wynn looked around them. This cabin had been their refuge for 3 years, and they never took the time to decorate it. It was the first thing they wanted to do when they arrived, but the opportunity never came. Maybe it was for the best.

On the bridge deck, Wynn surprised the captain by coming in with the boy. Relieved that he wanted to leave, she mouthed a silent "merci" to Wynn. She called for Martin, the boat's counterfeiter, and asked him to create a fake SIN for the boy. It would take him a few hours. Wynn didn't need one as they were a SINner. During that time, Katell planned their trip while explaining every detail to the leaving orcs. A cab would bring them to the airport. Their plane would go to Singapore to take the connecting flight to Paris, and again there for Bordeaux. Katell scribbled on a paper the address of the place where they would meet the fixer.

"You better not lose it, kid. Once off the boat, you won't hear from me for a long while." It suddenly hit Wynn that this could be the last time they would see each other. Katell was a hard woman, but as far as Wynn remember, she had always been here for them. Sending gifts while afar for birthdays. Finding them those augmented arms after the accident. Taking them in with no second thought when their parents passed away. This was their only family left. With no warning, Wynn stepped toward the woman and squeezed her against them. She first tried to fight back but quickly calmed down, hugging them in return. They stayed like this for a while. When did Wynn get taller than her? And since when were those grey strands of hair here? Someone cleared their throat, and the two hastily let go. Martin was back, Callum SIN's in hand. The two orcs were now ready to leave. With a last farewell, they left the ship.

It took 2 days and a half to arrive at Merignac airport, next to Bordeaux. They were both exhausted. Callum had spent the whole trip puking while Wynn had to manage not to get panics attacks. Being in a plane was their biggest fear. _ If we were supposed to fly the gods would have given us wings. _ It is with immense relief that they both left the last plane. With their papers, everything had been smooth at checkpoints. And the security being mostly orcish, they didn't suffer too much discrimination. It was strange for Wynn to hear people speak french around them. It had been so long. Callum didn't understand drek and had to rely on them. Stepping outside of the airport, they both inhaled the fresh air of the early night, quickly gagging on fumes. The ocean's breeze was the least polluted on earth and being out there for too long could make you forget how important a gas mask was. Luckily those things were easily purchasable. A vending machine was nearby, selling what a tourist or traveller would need. In it, you could see bottled water, umbrellas, sunglasses and other utilities. Callum complained about using his first-ever payment on this and bought the cheapest one he could find. He looked surprised when Wynn chooses the most extravagant. It was black with a multicoloured neon pattern resembling an daemon's mouth.

"Never knew you were into fashion." 

"Yeah. I used to model too." Seeing his astonished face but not wanting to speak more about it, Wynn proposed to use the public transports. They were too tired to drive, and the meeting point was only an hour away by bus. They both fell asleep on the ride, waking here and there when their head would fall to their chest. At some point, Callum realised they had missed their stop. It took them 15 minutes to finish their trip on foot.

Émile Duployé Street was a one-way, lined with habitations. You could only park on the left, for a fee of course. It was in the old Bordeaux, another street away from the river dock. The buildings' facades were in carved stone. It was clean and didn't smell bad. But Wynn was pretty sure it was the other way around in summer. It often was the case in old towns here in France. As they and their partner walked in, a small but quite agitated queue was visible on the right. People were waiting, hoping to get the right to go inside a building with purple neons on its black door, faint music coming from its windowless walls. From the opposing sidewalk, Wynn checked the number of the place and realised this was the meeting point with the new fixer. Callum read the name out loud.

"Variant Club. Seams like a posh place. You sure we at the right spot?" The people waiting were all elegantly dressed but Wynn saw it was mostly low-end fast fashion with obviously fake jewellery. The bouncers were just two, a troll with cow-like horns and a blue orc. A minotaur and an oni, both clothed in black. Wynn reexamined the name of the place before looking back at the bouncers. Was this a metavariant only club? Noticing them, the oni glanced in their direction, his black eyes meeting Wynn's. His skin was a deep blue, with lighter spots here and there and his hair was silver with darker roots. Looking back at his face, Wynn saw tiny green lights flicker in the middle of his irises. It wasn't cybernetics. Wynn realised they had been staring at him and felt slightly embarrassed. The oni gave them a genuine smile but shook his head in negative. No going through that door for them. Wynn suddenly felt self-aware. They hadn't changed or correctly slept in two days. Even if it was hidden under the mask, Wynn felt ashamed of their broken tusk. Looking at Callum, they saw how outworn his clothes were and the bags under his eyes.

"We ain't going in looking like that."

"No shit, Sherlock."

"Fuck you, Watson." They left, going to the end of the street. They needed to find a place and think about how to get in. Callum suggested that they could buy some clothes to be more presentable. Maybe his hooves could get them in. As he spoke, Wynn saw a gutter on a wall. It went up to the roofs. It gave them an idea. They had turned the corner so the bouncers could not see them. Wynn gave their bag to a confused Callum.

"Be the lookout would you?" And with no explanation started to climb the gutter. They could hear him pester under them, but he promised to whistle if need be. With driving, climbing was another one of their favourite activities. It also helped a lot when delivery could not be done by bike only. In no efforts, Wynn was on top of the block. They carefully stepped on the inclined roof toward where the club's attic would be. There was a small hatch big enough for them to fit in. Wynn opened it slowly, but it would not open fully. Its primary use was to ventilate when the heat would be too much in summer. The room where it led to was dark, so Wynn dared to snap it open, making a sharp crack. After a while, hearing no reaction, Wynn let themselves fall in, landing with a discreet thud.

It was dark inside but Wynn being an orc, the didn't need night googles. They were in what seemed to be an office with a high ceiling. A desk, shelves and chairs were the only furniture. Wynn crept to the unique door in the room, the music behind it getting louder. It was a simple wooden door, with no visible keyhole or security. Wynn turned the doorknob and went out in a corridor. They walked through it, listening behind the doors to see if they could find something interesting. But the whole floor was quiet, except for the music coming from under. They arrived at the top of a spiral staircase and went down. It lead them to the bathrooms' entry and on the left behind a curtain, the dancefloor. People were enjoying their times in different ways. Dancing, drinking hard liquors or beers, enjoying the view near the pole dances. Opposite to the ones waiting outside, those here were wearing the equivalent of a month salary on them. Clothes, jewellery and accessories from creators everywhere. A thief wouldn't stay still here.

The staff was in black, just like the bouncers outside. Shirts, pants and an apron around the waist. Their hands handling platters heavy with drinks. Most of them were metavariants. There was even a Nartaki fooling around with her four arms on a pole dance, her gold skin shimmering in the lights. While looking around, Wynn stayed near the walls, looking out for the fixer. The problem is, tatie Katell did not give a description of this individual. If Wynn had known the meeting point was a club, they would have insisted on getting more info. But here everyone was outstanding in their own way.

"I thought I was clear with you not being allowed in." Wynn heart beat so hard they could feel the blood pumping in their temples. Impressed for not jumping or screaming in shock a the voice murmuring in their left ear, Wynn felt proud of their self-control. Casually, they turned around, facing the oni bouncer slumped on the wall, hands in his pockets.

"I was asked to come here. But no one told me about the dress code." They crossed their arms and straightened, trying to look confident and intimidating. He was still smiling, his eyes examining their face and neck. The faint green glow was still there.

"Nice tattoos. Is it blackwork?" Taken aback, Wynn did not expect that comment. They examined him, trying to see what he wanted. It was a genuine question.

"I... Yes, they are. The neck only, 'face is nano." He frowned at that for a short second. It was so quick that Wynn wasn't even sure if it happened. He got off the wall and held his hand out.

"Names Thaler, nice to meet you. The boss's still at the airport waiting for you. She's gonna be so pissed." Wynn shook his hand, confused. The fixer went to fetch them? But then why ask to meet here?

"Also we've found your friend outside..." Wynn squeezed his hand with their chrome. One of his eyelids quivered, but he kept smiling, putting his other hand on Wynn's, trying to make them let go. "And we just lead him to safety. He will receive a hot meal. But for your own safety, don't break my hand. They won't appreciate it." Wynn was about to ask who "they" was but a clamour came from the people around. Lifting their head up, Wynn saw spirits flying furiously near the ceiling. They were three, each a different aspect and colour. Air, beast, but also guardian spirits. Seeing those Wynn quickly let go of the bouncer's hand, not wanting to be the subject of their fury. At that, the spirits calmed down, giving the public a show while playing around before disappearing. People then went back to their occupations as if this was all normal. The oni was massaging his hand, still smiling but looking bemused.

"Sorry about that. They are very protective of me. Now if you would follow me, I'll take you to your friend." He led them through the club, going behind the counter. They passed the kitchens and took a large staircase that led to the cellar. He went first. Wynn reluctantly went after him, going down the steps. 

The cave had been reworked, in a way that a troll could easily be there without breaking their backs. The reached the end of the corridor, and the bouncer kneeled, opening a hidden hatch on the floor. Wynn could hear the distant sound of voices down there. They recognised Callum's voice. Was he alright? They went first, grabbing the ladder, going down as quickly as possible. At one point they missed a step. Wynn landed on their ass, interrupting the ongoing conversation.

"Oh! That's the friend I was talking about!" Callum was on a couch, pointing at Wynn. Three other orcs were sitting next to him. He looked relaxed, a bowl of hot soup in his hands. "'Was telling them that one time you fished a massive bigeye tuna." Wynn remembered. Callum wanted to learn how to fish that day. That idiot nearly fell off the ship. Seeing their annoyed glare, he held out his bowl. 

"Want some soup?" As Wynn got up to look around, a door opened in the back of the room. An impressive troll came in, furious. As she walked towards them, Wynn's mouth fell agape. She was the most beautiful woman they had ever seen. Long braided grey hair. Skin dark with a slight violet undertone. Face decorated with magical gleaming tattoos. Horns covered in silver. Shoulders showing that there was a lot of muscles under those clothes. In no time she was towering them, clearly above 2 meters tall, eyes filled with furry. Would she ask Wynn to jump they would do it. She spoke in french.

"You really her niece? You don't look alike at all." She squinted, leaning a bit "Maybe the eyes..." Katell was a blond european woman with her skin tanned by the sea sun and green eyes.

"My dad's family was from Vietnam." The troll nodded, understanding. Furry left its place for fatigue. She put a large hand on Wynn's shoulder.

"I wanted to meet you at the airport. Should have asked for a picture to your aunt. Anyway, welcome to my little hideout. My name is Susan." She continued on by presenting the rest of the crew. Upon remarking Callum, she went on a mama bear mode. She asked all sorts of questions to see if he was ok, shocked at seeing his filled horns. She asked the Thaler guy to bring the kid to the barracks to take a shower and give him new clothes. This woman was all caring and sweet with her crew, the complete opposite of the captain. Everyone was running around, going back to their work, leaving Wynn alone. 

They felt exhausted and sat on the now-empty couch. Looking around, Wynn saw that this place was used as a resting room. There was a small kitchenette with comfortable looking chairs. When people would leave the room, Wynn could see through the opened door deckers plugged in the matrix on the other side. This was a secret basement hidden under a club. Just like some trid movie they would watch as a kid. Wynn felt themselves dozing off. The couch was so soft that it was hard to fight against sleep. Laying on it, they made themselves as comfortable as possible. It was enough for now. Tomorrow would be a new day with a new crew. They would dream of nine-tailed foxes that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this. My first attempt at writing woohoo! I feel EXHAUSTED. But using english felt more natural. There will be other stories with those characters and settings, but now I need to rest. October is near, and my gaming group is gonna start again on 6 edition. Special thank you to Ghostfriendly, your comments encouraged me. Also special thanks to my friend Collins, Harrap and Bescherelle for helping me with the english. See you next time!


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